Page 13 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

“As for your other question, I…see fine detail. Whether I want to or not. So, if you crave a debate on the merits of Pomona green, primrose, or ivory, I am your man.”

“I shall keep that in mind. If I’m ever struggling with insomnia.”

“Wounded again!” He clutched at his chest. “Remind me to invest in full-body armor for our next rendezvous. Now I have a question for you. The renovations you are undertaking, they aren’t to live in. They are preparation for some sort of business. What are you planning?”

She swallowed hard. “My goodness, you have missed your calling. Rather than overseeing orgies, you should be solving crimes.”

“Hmm. So you admit to a crime, then?”

“Hardly,” said Mairi primly, suppressing the urge to create a loud distraction and flee the room. “Nothing would compel me to talk.”

A wicked grin curved his hard lips. “There are ways and means, dear lady.”

She shivered at the thought. “Remind me why you have invaded my home?”

“Invasion wasn’t even required. The door was open, I spoke to Ramsey, and he waved me in. You really should invest in more security, if you are planning a business.”

The man was like a bloody hound who’d scented a fox.

Forcing herself to amble, Mairi made her way over to one of the street-facing windows and stared out. Afternoon sunshine warmed her bare arms, and she flexed her aching fingers. “We haven’t quite decided what color to paint this room yet.”

“Indeed?” Iain murmured, and she nearly screamed as his hands settled on her shoulders. Bloody hell, she hadn’t even heard him move. But then he began kneading her sore, tired flesh, and she bit her lip to halt a groan of pleasure. God, his hands.

“Mmmm.”

“You are so very tense. Actually, I could probably do a far better job if there wasn’t all this damned fabric in the way.”

Mairi’s breathing hitched, and her nipples tightened to rock-hard peaks. They were alone. If Ramsey had let Iain in, he would see they had some privacy. She just needed one good climax to cool this unbearable heat in her blood. Then she could relax and focus on all the tasks at hand again. “Well, make yourself useful and help me out of my gown and stays.”

“What about your chemise?”

“Really, my lord. It is a simple shoulder massage, is it not?”

“Of course,” Iain said mock-contritely, lifting her gown over her head. Expertly, he unlaced her stays and draped the garments over a chair. Then his thumbs pressed deeply on either side of her spine, rubbing and circling, trailing up and down, and her head fell back on his shoulder in blessed relief as her muscles eased.

“That feels…”

“Adequate? I know. Your nipples are hard. They are currently a shade of pink known as blossom, but with the right encouragement, they could become carmine. Or perhaps claret.”

Mairi shuddered, need reaching breaking point. Turning, she climbed up onto the high window seat and lifted a hand to tug at the ribbon on her threadbare chemise. Only to falter. Damn it, why couldn’t she have full breasts? Ample cleavage that he could bury his face in? “Er…”

“Hurry up, woman, or I’ll tear the fucking thing off. Ten years I’ve waited to taste ye again, and I’ll no be waiting a moment more.”

Iain’s accent had thickened considerably, caressing the words. Mairi squirmed on the seat as she tugged the ribbon and let her chemise gape open. “Suck my nipples. Suck them hard.”

He didn’t. Merely teased them, flicking and rubbing one aching peak with his tongue while his finger and thumb lightly pinched the other, before swapping sides.

It was heaven. And hell.

Mairi cajoled, she threatened, she begged, finally in desperate, frantic need, arching her back to force her jutting, painfully swollen nipple into his mouth.

His teeth scraped, his lips sucked, and she cried out in stunned delight as sensation gathered and exploded. Just as it had been in Scotland, the sun’s warmth on her naked skin, the delicious pressure of Iain’s mouth on her shockingly sensitive breast, tumbled her over the edge into orgasm.

And they’d barely even started.

…

Christ.